The Request
by KJFern
Summary: The Warden is betrothed to King Alistair, and has convinced him to take part in Morrigan's dark magic ritual- now she must face the consequences. The second story- but first one written- in my "A Warden's Life" series. Rated M for mature themes


**_Yes, the Warden in this story is Arianna, the same Warden featured in "The Choice", "The Wedding", "The Rejoining", and "A Single Rose Started It All". But this was the first Fanfic story that I had ever written, and I had decided not to reveal my Warden's name at that particular time (And I have decided to leave it that way, as well as not making this into a chaptered story). Enjoy!_**

**_As always… Thanks to BioWare and the entire Dragon Age Team. And thank you to everyone that has read this story and has made it one of their favorites. _**

**The Request**

The heavy oak door swung shut behind Alistair and Morrigan, as they left the Grey Warden's bed chamber. The Warden stared pensively at the closed door for a few moments, then turned and walked across the room until she reached the massive stone fireplace - she stopped and stood before the hearth.

A fire had been lit for her earlier by one of the servants that worked at Redcliffe castle, and she found herself very grateful for the servant's attentiveness. A chill had settled deep within her bones – a cold so frigid that it seemed to permeate her soul. The Warden shivered slightly as she stretched out her arms towards the welcoming warmth of the fire, and rubbed her hands together in a desperate attempt to banish the chill from her body. She shivered once again and then wrapped her arms around herself – a further attempt to seek not only warmth, but some type of solace as well. The Warden continued to gaze into the fire that crackled and popped as the hungry flames devoured the logs of wood.

"Oh, my Maker," she whispered softly," What in Thedas have I done?" She closed her eyes and waited for an answer that did not come. The Maker did not answer her, but she did not need an answer from Him. She knew exactly what she had done.

The Warden sighed wearily as she turned away from the warmth of the fire. She looked around the room that had been given to her for the night, by Arl Eamon and his wife. It was the typical bedchamber that one would expect to find in a Ferelden castle. There was a large comfortable-looking four-poster bed to the right of the stone fireplace, which was positioned in such a way as to benefit from any warmth that the fireplace gave (Ferelden was known for it's rather chilly climate, so most rooms tended to include a massive fireplace that was usually kept lit for most of the year).

On the other side of the four-poster bed, placed against the wall, was a large wooden writing desk with a matching chair. There was also a set of bookshelves, lined with various volumes of leather bound books, along that same wall, not too far from the desk. She thought of the library that was back in her ancestral home in Highever, and how she used to enjoy spending time reading the extensive collection of leather-bound books that her grandfather had gathered over the years. She smiled in fond memory of a time that had been so much more…simpler.

The Warden turned and glanced to her left. She saw that there were two tall dressers against this side of the room's wall, along with a few small chests, scattered here and there. Next to one of the dressers stood a large oval mirror, as well as stands for both armor and weapons. A small wooden table and two chairs had been placed in front of the fireplace, towards the center of the room. A crusty loaf of bread, a crock of butter and a small block of white cheese had been placed upon the table, along with a pretty glass bowl that contained apples, pears and green grapes, for her to eat. There was a flask of wine and a pitcher of water on the table as well, should she find herself in need of drink. As she continued her perusal of the chambers, she noticed, scattered here and there on all four walls, that both paintings and tapestries, depicting various scenery and people, had been carefully hung. The room was not unlike her room back in Highever, and contained all the amenities that she might require.

It had been less than a year since she had left her home after her parents had been killed by Howe's men -yet it seemed more like a lifetime to her. So much had changed since then, and not all of it was for the better. The past months had not been easy for her and her small group of companions, as they had journeyed through Ferelden on their quest to raise an army. Many of the decisions and choices she had been forced to make along the way had not been easy, and the repercussions of some of those decisions had taken a great toll on her; but none greater than the choice she had made earlier tonight.

Her thoughts kept drifting back to Alistair… and Morrigan… and to what was happening now between them. _Oh dear Maker…_she thought to herself…_ I didn't realize it would hurt so much! _Images and thoughts kept whirling in her mind… of Alistair and herself…of Alistair and Morrigan. She cursed herself, and with great effort, banished the unwelcome images and thoughts from her mind.

The Warden walked over to the armor stand and then stood before it. She struggled to remove the impressive dragon scale armor that had been made especially for her back in Denerim. Without another pair of helping hands, she was finding it a difficult task to rid herself of her armor. Though the armor was fairly light –as far as armor goes- she found that the minor injuries she had obtained earlier was hindering her greatly.

Earlier in the day, her companions and she had arrived at Redcliffe to find that the castle and village were under attack by a small horde of darkspawn –not to mention an Ogre or two- and she sustained a few injuries during the battle. She supposed that she would have to summon Wynne to her and ask the elderly mage to use her magic to heal her injuries. The Warden couldn't afford to go into tomorrow's battle, against the Archdemon and the entire horde of darkspawn, with any type of injuries- no matter how minor they may be. Too much depended on her and her fighting skills -she had to be at her best. They _all_ had to be at their best.

Now if she could only get this blighted armor off of her! She was tired and dirty and she was losing patience. She felt like crying. _What kind of warrior am I? I can't even get my own bloody armor off, and yet I'm supposed to slay an Archdemon! _She cursed herself again.

Just then, there was a tentative knock at the door to her chambers. "My lady?" inquired a female voice. "May I come in?"

The Warden sighed happily. "Maker's breath, yes! I need your assistance."

The door opened and a pretty young elven woman entered, shutting the door behind her. "The arlessa sent me to attend to any needs you might have. My name is Adenessa, my lady, and I am here to help you in any way that I can."

The Warden smiled gratefully at Adenessa. "You have come just in time. I have been having a rather hard time with my armor. It doesn't seem to want to come off." She smiled at the servant again and beckoned to her.

"Of course, my lady, it would be my pleasure to help you remove your armor." With the help of the young maid, the Warden was finally free of her armor. She sighed in relief and thanked the young servant in gratitude. "Would my lady like me to help her bathe?" asked Adenessa, as she placed the Warden's body armor carefully on the provided stand.

"No, that is not necessary. I'm sure I can manage the rest on my own, but thank you again, Adenessa." The Warden was not in the habit of letting people wait on her. Even when she was living at home in Highever, she did not have a lady's maid to attend her, as most noble women in Ferelden did. Her mother had raised her to be an independent female, one that was more then capable of seeing to her own needs. Not to say that there had been no servants in Highever, for there had been – servants to do the cooking, cleaning, and any other duties that her late father, Teryn Cousland, might have needed to be done.

Adenessa went to one of the tall dressers and removed a nightgown and robe from the drawer. She then went to the four-poster bed and laid out the garments upon it. "This should fit you nicely, my lady. I'm sure you will find it acceptable. It's made from Orlesian silk." The servant looked at the Warden and smiled shyly. "Is there anything else you may need?"

"Would you mind finding the mage Wynne and asking her to come see me? I think I am in need of her healing touch," replied the Warden.

"My lady! Are you hurt? Begging your pardon, but you should have told someone earlier that you were injured, my lady!" The young female elf looked at the Warden with a worried expression. She seemed quite upset.

The Warden began to feel sorry that she had even brought anything up. She hated when people fussed over her so. She was a warrior through- and- through and knew how to not only give a beating, but also how to take one. She sighed. "Please don't worry. Just send Wynne to me and I'll be fine- really." The Warden's tone was gentle but firm and left no room for argument from the servant.

"Yes, my lady. I'll go get the mage post haste and send her to you." The servant bowed her head slightly to the Warden and then left her room.

After a few moments, Wynne arrived and worked her healing magic on the Warden. When the mage was done all traces of her injuries had been almost completely removed. The Warden sighed in relief as she stretched her limbs. There was no pain or soreness in any of her limbs now and the ugly bruises had all but faded away. She thanked her friend and wished her a good night, but not before Wynn chided her in a motherly fashion about waiting so long to call on her, and how she must take better care of herself. The Warden simply kept nodding in agreement and said she was sorry. She learned long ago it was much better – and quicker- to just agree with Wynne and be repentant, instead of arguing or disagreeing with her. Wynne almost always turned out to be right anyway. She thanked the mage again, showed her to the doorway and then shut the door firmly behind Wynne.

The Warden decided to look over her armor to make sure that there were no chinks or cracks in the armor; but Master Wade had done his job well- he was a true craftsman. The armor was in perfect condition and would protect her well during her battle with the darkspawn and Archdemon - for tomorrow the Warden and the others would march on to Denerim and put an end to this cursed Blight.

At least that was the plan.

She continued stripping down until she was completely nude. She looked around until she saw the items that she had been searching for. A glass pitcher filled with water, a large metal basin, and a wash cloth had been placed upon one of the larger chests in the room. She walked over to the chest, picked up the pitcher and poured the water into the large basin. She picked up the wash cloth and began to wash herself -rather hurriedly- in the tepid water. She thought of all the times over the past year when she had been forced to bathe in a pond or stream as they traveled the countryside, on their quest to raise an army against Loghain and the queen's soldiers. She much preferred washing up in a warm room. What she wouldn't give for an actual hot bath. She sighed wistfully… maybe someday soon. _If_ she survived her coming battle to end The Blight, that is.

Her task finished, she then donned the nightgown and robe that had been laid out upon the bed for her. She couldn't remember the last time she had been able to wear such an item of clothing. The white material was smooth and soft to her touch. She gave a very feminine sigh of appreciation. Her armor and smallclothes had been her daily uniform for the last year as she and her companions traveled through Ferelden, fighting Darkspawn (and any other individual –man, creature, or demon- that wished to cause her or the good people of Ferelden harm). It was so very nice to be able dress like a normal woman again- if only for one night.

Now finished with her chore of washing and dressing, the Warden tried to find some other task that needed to be done- any task- that would keep her thoughts away from what was going on in Alistair's bedchamber. Unbidden images started to creep back into her mind. _You mustn't go there. Don't think about it. It's just a ritual…nothing more. _She thought to herself, _It doesn't _mean_ anything._

She glanced at the food and drink that had been placed on the table for her, but she had no desire to eat or drink anything. Even had she the desire, her stomach was in such tense knots, she feared nothing would stay down anyway. She began, instead, to pace back and forth in front of the stone fireplace, and tried desperately to quiet the clamorous thoughts that filled her mind. She tried to quell the rising tide of doubt, fear, and panic that threatened to overflow – but she could not. The Warden's pacing became faster- frantic- as if she was trying to out-run the tidal wave of emotions that threatened to crash through the warrior's carefully built walls of self-discipline and control. But the walls now had cracks in them and they began to weaken.

_What if I was wrong to listen to Morrigan? What if I have actually made things worse? What if Alistair never forgives me for coercing him to… to…_She couldn't finish her thoughts. It hurt too much.

Within her mind she relived the recently transpired events of this night: Rhiordan telling them what a Grey Warden must face in order to kill the Archdemon and end The Blight; Morrigan telling her of a ritual of dark magic that could save the lives of the Grey Wardens; She using Alistair's love for her and his trust in her against him, so that he would take part in Morrigan's ritual …a ritual that would have lasting consequences for all involved. And perhaps for the rest of Thedas- yet in her selfishness she did not stop to think about any consequences, until now, when it was too late.

She began to panic and her pacing became more and more frantic. She may have found a way to save the life of herself and the man she loved, but at what cost? What if Alistair turned against her and she lost him anyway? A fresh wave of pain washed over her at this last thought. Her warrior's iron will and resolve started to fail her for the first time in her life. _Oh, Alistair… please, _please_, forgive me. _It became too much. The storm of emotions she felt within could no longer be contained or controlled. She abruptly stopped pacing and stood still as the waves of emotion rose up like a great tidal wave- crashing through and destroying the walls of her self-discipline and control. She sank to her knees upon the cold stone floor as the crushing weight of her thoughts and emotions oppressed her. She closed her eyes against the unbearable pain. _Maker, help me- please! _She pleaded silently. She bowed her head into her hands and began to sob uncontrollably.

So great was her anguish, so lost was she in the torment of her suffering, she did not hear the heavy door open. Nor did she realize that someone had entered her chambers and now stood looking down at her with immense alarm.

"That royal bastard!" swore Zevran vehemently. "What has that blighted son-of –a whore done to you?" the elf asked her with a barely controlled fury. His handsome elven face was dangerous looking.

He had seen his Warden (yes, he still thought of her as _his_, for he still loved her) face many an enemy and situation that would bring lesser _men_ to their knees, but never the Warden…not she. Yet here he found her- on the floor in a wretched heap. He just _knew _that this was all Alistair's fault. To the Blight with him! Zevran quickly knelt down beside the Warden and took her gently into his arms. He felt her body shudder as a silent sob shook her. Zevran stroked her hair as he held her tightly. He had never seen the Warden in such a state before. Ever. His eyes narrowed and his face grew hard. His thoughts grew dark as he thought of all tortuous things he wished to do to Alistair.

"Hush, my beautiful Warden, mi amore," Zevran murmured to her quietly. He continued speaking softly, "It will be all right, my lovely. I am here now." Could it be that she new of Alistair's assignation with Morrigan? "What has happened? Tell me, my dear Warden. Please. Who has hurt you so, mi amore?" Zevran could hardly restrain himself from kissing away the pain that he saw on her face. But he had respected and honored her wishes to end that part of their relationship, when she chose Alistair over him six months ago. Nothing had changed as far as he knew. _Or has it?_

She looked at Zevran's handsome face, startled a bit, as she had not seen him enter her room. As she tried to control her emotions, their eyes met. The pain and anguish he saw in her eyes pierced his heart like a sharp dagger, causing the elf to mutter more than a few vulgarities about Alistair, under his breath.

"Zev?" she questioned, "Why… why are you here?" Zevran had always been careful to avoid her sleeping quarters since that day she had chosen Alistair over him, in deference to her wishes. She wasn't sure that he being here now, was a good thing. Yet she didn't pull away from him. Her need to be comforted was too great at the moment.

He paused slightly before he answered- a dead give away that he was about to lie to her. The truth was that he had seen Morrigan go into Alistair's chambers earlier. And he had not seen either one leave the room yet, so he had decided to make sure that the Warden was alright. To tell the truth, he was more then a little surprised to see Alistair and Morrigan together, for both of them made no secret of their low opinion of each other. Alistair thought Morrigan was a bitch with a capital "B" and Morrigan thought Alistair was an incompetent fool and would have probably cursed him with some horrible spell of hers, if it hadn't been for her friendship with the Warden. This made what he had witnessed earlier, all the more unimaginable. Zevran was not about to add to her pain by acknowledging that he in fact knew about the pair of them.

"I was passing by your room on my way to find a willing companion for the evening," he said in reply, "So I thought I'd just stop by and say 'Good Night' to you….and perhaps see if you were in need of anything." This excuse sounded weak even to him. Well, the latter part did. The first part was almost true- he _had_ been thinking about finding some female company for the night. He glanced at her quickly to see if she had believed his half-truth.

She frowned at him slightly and gave him a grim look. She knew he had lied to her- but she did not say anything.

He sighed in exasperation. She knew him too well, it seemed. He couldn't seem to lie to her convincingly anymore. She had found a way into his heart, this Grey Warden, and had changed him forever. He had broken his own rule and had disregarded his own training as a Crow- he had fallen in love. Fallen in love with the one woman he could never have. Unless he stuck a dagger into that royal bastard's heart, that is. He swore to himself softly again.

"No matter the reason, glad I am that I arrived when I did," he said to her. "For it seems you are in great need of my comfort…the kind that only _I_ can give." Zevran looked at her and gave her that wicked grin of his. "A beautiful woman, such as your self, should _never_ be left all alone in her chambers," he said. "Not when there is such a willing and _talented_ elf as myself, to help you fill all the long empty hours 'till morning." Zevran looked at her suggestively and chuckled. Better for her to think he was jesting then to reveal his true feelings towards her. But he always seemed to know how to make her laugh, even when she was furious with him.

Theirs had always been a curious and interesting relationship. But it was a true relationship and she trusted him with her life, if not her heart. She looked at him and laughed softly- she couldn't help herself. He was such a charming rogue. He could charm a person right up until the moment he ended their life with one of his daggers dipped in poison. As an assassin he was truly lethal.

He had actually only failed in his job as an assassin once- when he had been sent to kill the last two Grey Wardens still alive in Ferelden. When she had spared his life, he had given his oath to serve her until she had completed her task-ending The Blight- or until she released him from his oath.

She realized then that they were both sitting on the floor and he still had his arms wrapped tightly around her. It brought back memories that were better off being left in the past. "Zev?" she questioned softly.

"Yes, my dear Warden?" he answered.

"Can we get off of the floor?" she asked. "I'm getting cold and this floor is hard." She moved uncomfortably and shivered slightly as if to prove her point. She saw Zevran look at her and raise an eyebrow. She hadn't fooled him in the least.

He smiled and laughed softly. "I, however, my lovely Warden, am feeling quite warm and quite comfortable." He said with a grin. "But we will do things your way, my dearest. I am here to fulfill any desire you may have." He grinned cheekily at her.

She felt relieved that he decided to make things somewhat easy on her. She knew that he saw right through her flimsy excuse to get up off the floor. She smiled gratefully at him.

Zevran stood up and then reached down to grab both of her hands with his. He pulled her to her feet gently, but did not let go of her hands. They stood in front of the fireplace, facing each other, her hands still clasped in his very strong warm ones.

The Warden looked at the floor and avoided making eye contact with him. Zevran knew her expressions all too well, so she dared not let him look too closely at her face. He had assumed too much as it is. She knew the real reason he had come to her bedchamber. She had surmised that Zevran had seen Alistair and Morrigan go into his room together, and had drawn his own conclusions.

Zevran did know her all too well, so he took matters into his own hands. "Look at me", he demanded softly but firmly. He needed to get to the source of the matter, and to do this he needed to see her eyes. Her eyes always told him her true feelings. He, on the other hand, was much more adapt at hiding his true feelings, something she had yet to learn how to do. Her eyes always gave her away.

She lowered her head to avoid having to meet his piercing elven eyes, but Zevran would not allow this. He placed a hand firmly under her chin and raised her head until her eyes were looking directly into his. He gazed deeply into her eyes, searching for the truth of the matter- and what he found made his blood boil. Zevran's muscles tensed as if he was ready to do battle and he inhaled sharply. Zevran's entire demeanor changed- he was no longer the charming and roguish elf – he had transformed back into the deadly Antivian Crow that knew how to kill- and kill well.

There was no mistaking the controlled fury and anger in Zevran's voice when he spoke to her. "I am going to kill the bastard!" he stated slowly. "King or not, I will kill that cheating royal bastard!" He spoke with deadly determination.

She looked at Zevran; her eyes shimmering with pain and unshed tears, but did not speak. She could not speak. Her pain was still too great.

'Well, you're most certainly welcome to try", replied Alistair with barely contained rage, as he stood in the doorway. The door had been left ajar by Zevran when he had entered the room earlier. "Remember what happened when you tried the first time - you failed- and failed miserably." Alistair had not been in a good mood before he had entered his betrothed's chambers, and after finding Zevran alone with the Warden, he was absolutely infuriated. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the two of them standing together- hands clasped- and his faced hardened. Long buried doubts began to rise within Alistair. "Kindly unhand my betrothed, elf," said Alistair in a very _unkind_ tone of voice.

The Warden turned to look at Alistair, and at the same time Zevran's arm flew forward with a great deadly force -a wicked looking dagger imbedded itself into the doorjamb less than an inch away from Alistair's head. She jerked in surprise, inhaling her breath sharply. He had been so swift in his attack; she hadn't even sensed his movement. _Maker's breath! They're going to kill each other!_

"You missed." Alistair calmly pulled the dagger from the wood.

"So I did." replied Zevran just as calmly. "Next time my aim may be better," he said smoothly. The thinly veiled threat was obvious.

Both Alistair and Zevran continued to look intently at one another in dislike- each unwilling to look away or back down. Hostility and rage radiated outward from both of them and the atmosphere in the room was now extremely tense.

Alistair wanted nothing more than to hurl Zevran's dagger back at him, but he knew his throwing aim wasn't as good as Zevran's. He would probably just end up hitting his bride-to-be instead. Zevran raised an eyebrow at Alistair, as if he knew what had just passed through Alistair's mind. Alistair cursed the elf under his breath, his face growing darker.

The Warden knew she had to diffuse the situation before either male did something to cause irreparably damage to one another - or to her relationship with the both of them. Plus she needed them both healthy, and in the right frame of mind, if they were to defeat their enemies in battle tomorrow. Even now, she still had to think of her duty as a Grey Warden. She sighed in exasperation.

"Zevran?" she said as she tried to get his attention. "Zev, please look at me," she pleaded. She placed her hand on his arm and felt his muscles quiver with barely controlled anger. She squeezed his arm gently, but firmly, in an attempt to gain his attention. He ignored her and kept looking angrily at Alistair. "Zev… please look at me. Please!" She continued speaking to him in a pleading tone. "Zevran, please stop this. Please don't make matters worse." She needed him to leave her room before Alistair did something stupid and reckless. He was an excellent warrior, but Zevran knew how to fight dirty and was capable of doing much damage to Alistair. If they started to fight one another, she would have no choice but to step in. She would not let anyone harm her king and the man she loved. Not even Zevran. She would sorely hate to have to kill her ex-lover, but she would if he left her no choice. She sighed again in exasperation.

The Warden looked over at Alistair and opened her mouth to make a plea to his better nature, but after one look at his hard and angry expression, she realized that she would defiantly get nowhere with him. He was not going to be the one to back down.

"By Andraste's flaming knickers!" she muttered angrily to herself. "This has got to stop!" She was now more than a little irritated with the pair of them, but she was determined not to show them her anger. She inhaled deeply and held her breath for a moment before slowly letting it out.

She turned back to Zevran and looked at him in sorrow. She knew she was going to hate herself for what she was about to do, but she felt she had no choice. She had to put an end to all this...this...Alpha male behavior. _Forgive me, Zevran_, she thought to herself. The Warden leaned towards Zevran, put her lips close to his pointed ear and whispered, "Zev, if you love me at all -please, _please_ stop what you are doing. If you truly love me, you will do as I ask and leave. You'll let me handle things myself." She then leaned back and waited as the guilt washed over her. She cursed herself silently.

Zevran took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. He turned slowly around and faced her. He gave her a faint smile and looked into her eyes and what she saw there cut her deeply. Her guilty feelings multiplied. For just a moment, Zevran had allowed her to see his pain, the pain that she had caused by using his love for her against him. He continued looking at her for a moment longer before masking his emotions.

"As you wish, my dear Warden," said Zevran. "I will do as you request, but only because I suddenly feel the need to seek other more…willing companionship for the rest of the night." And with a loud laugh, Zevran once again became the charismatic and mischievous elf that could charm the smallclothes of any woman, or man, for that matter.

"Then I suggest that you remove yourself from my betrothed's bedchamber, and go ply your trade elsewhere tonight." Alistair said to Zevran, quite irately, as he pushed open the heavy wooden door further. "Might I suggest the tavern in town? I hear an elf with your _talents_ can make a quick coin or two there." Alistair stepped away from the open doorway and walked further into the room.

Zevran ignored Alistair as he took the Warden's hands, raised them to his lips, palms- up, and placed a single caressing kiss on each palm. Her body began to remember how his touch used to make her feel and she shivered slightly as her body sought to betray her. She shot him an annoyed glance.

Zevran gave her a knowing look and smiled impishly. "Good night, my beautiful Grey Warden. May your dreams be…pleasurable," He laughed and grinned wickedly at her.

"Thank you, Zevran, for everything," she replied as she smiled back at him, "Good night and sleep well, for tomorrow's battle will be upon us soon enough." After taking a quick look at Alistair's face, she realized that she might not make it through _tonight's_ battle. She sighed yet again.

Alistair scowled at the both of them and cleared his throat loudly.

Zevran looked at him and raised an eyebrow, while laughing loudly. He walked across the room to the open door, but stopped and turned around when he reached it. He looked at the Warden with a mischievous look in his eyes, and said "If you ever find yourself in need of my many, many_ talents_ or services again, you have but to call me… and I will attend to _all_ your needs."

Zevran then hastily exited the room, laughing, as Alistair slammed shut the door- loudly- behind the elf. Through the closed and now locked door they could still hear Zevran's laughter as he walked down the hallway to seek out more welcoming company.

"By the Maker, I should have run my sword through that blighted elf six months ago!" Alistair muttered to himself as he turned away from the door and looked at his wife-to-be. His heart skipped a beat as he gazed at her. _Maker's Breath! You are so beautiful, _he thought to himself. Six months ago, he had felt himself the most blessed man in Thedas, when she had told him that she loved him and wanted to be with him, and only him. However, after the events of this night, he wasn't all that sure where he stood with her now. And that hurt. His doubts continued to grow. Maker's breath was he tired. He looked at his love and his face grew passive.

The Warden watched Alistair's face closely and tried to gauge his true mood. He had a hard look about him that didn't bode well for the rest of their evening. She watched as he walked across the stone floor and stopped a few feet from her.

He continued looking at her with a guarded expression on his face. She was wearing a nightgown and robe that he had never seen her wear before. The white silk robe hung open to reveal a silk night gown of the same color underneath. The gown draped her body in such a way as to accentuate her lovely female curves and features. The thin material left little to his imagination as she moved closer to the fire's light. _Maker's breath! _He thought once again to himself.

Alistair watched as she drew her robe closer about her. _Funny how she didn't seem to mind her state of dress when Zevran_ _was here_, Alistair thought. "You needn't cover yourself for my sake, my dear." He spoke as if he was irritated with her.

"I'm just a little cold, Alistair" she replied softly.

He could see her body was indeed shivering. He glanced at her as a sheepish looked crossed his face. He walked over to fireplace and added a few large logs and some more kindling to the dying fire. He took up the iron poker and stoked the embers until the fire became a roaring blaze once again. "Thank you," he heard her say gratefully. He said nothing in response, but continued to stare into the flames of the burning logs.

The Warden moved closer to the fire as she sought the warmth it gave, but stopped a few feet away from where Alistair was standing. He still wouldn't look at her. She let her gaze roam over Alistair's frame. He was such a handsome man. His short light golden brown hair was damp and looked freshly washed. He had on a simple blue long-sleeved shirt that hung down almost to the knees of the brown leather trousers he wore. She noticed he had not put any boots on, but was bare footed. Alistair had left the shirt unlaced and she could see the ripple of muscles on his broad chest when he poked the logs with the iron poker. She sighed wistfully as memories of Alistair in various stages of undress tumbled through her mind. She knew every part of his body well… she could never seem to get enough of him. She thought of the very first time they had spent the night together, at their camp, in her tent.

Alistair had never been with a woman before, as he had been sent to the Chantry at an early age, to be raised by the sisters there. When he was older he had begun his training as a Templar there, before becoming a Grey Warden. He had told her that he had been waiting for the right time…for the right woman to give himself to. He had wanted her to be that woman. So they gave themselves to each other that night. She would forever cherish that memory for as long as she might live. She was so lost in her thoughts of that night, she didn't notice that Alistair had turned to her and had been watching the myriad of emotions that had been crossing her face.

He had felt her eyes on her, watching him. When he had finally turned to face her, the expression on her face caused him to stop breathing for a moment. He saw that she was lost in her own thoughts, for she was staring at him without really seeing him. He could see her desire for… him? Maker's breath, let it still be so, he pleaded, to the silent Maker. His body began to react to her yearning and it took all of his warrior's iron will to subdue his desire for her.

The Warden suddenly became aware that Alistair was watching her intently. Their eyes met and she felt her heart thump loudly in her chest. She couldn't seem to breathe right. She couldn't seem to think straight. Her lips parted slightly and her breath quickened. She took a step toward Alistair.

"Don't. Don't come near me."

Alistair's hard voice stopped her in her tracks. She looked at him with a wounded look in her eyes. She looked questioningly at him, unsure what to do.

Alistair looked at the only woman he had ever loved. "Why?" He asked her in a voice laced with pain and anger. "Why in the Maker's name would you have me bed _Morrigan_? Alistair spat Morrigan's name out like it was a distasteful thing in his mouth. "You know how much I detest that…that… apostate bitch!" Alistair's face grew dark and cold. "And how could you expect me, someone who had trained to be a Templar, to take part in some sort of dark magic, sex-ritual and- and-" He couldn't even find the words to express his revulsion. The Templar within him was horrified at what had transpired between him and Morrigan- two willing participants in some dark magic ritual. Maker only knows what type of child will come out of that union!

She looked at his face and her heart grew fearful.

Alistair stopped talking as the memory of the time spent with that _witch_ pushed into his mind. Why in the Maker's beyond had he agreed to take part in that ritual? He agreed, because his betrothed had asked him to. Nay, begged him to. She had come into his room and asked if he loved her…if he trusted her…and then asked him to do the unthinkable. Even when she told him that a child-his child- would be conceived, he still agreed to her request. He loved her that much.

Alistair closed his eyes against the unbearable pain and guilt, and began to speak softly. "Do you have any idea how laying with that…witch…made me feel? Do you have any idea of the things she did…to me…with me… to make sure that I could… perform? He opened his eyes and there were tears in them. "Do you realize that my body could not help but respond to her?" The tears were running freely down his face, now.

Her heart broke for him. Her heart broke for the both of them. She couldn't speak. She didn't know what to do. She wished she could die. _Where's a bloody darkspawn when you need one?_ At this moment she would have gladly stood still and let one of those blighted creatures run its sword through her heart. She deserved no less.

Alistair struggled to control his emotions and angrily wiped away any remaining tears from his eyes. He looked at his future queen. She stood despondently with her head hanging down, not looking at him. She still had not answered him. His eyes narrowed and his face became hard. "I am such a fool." He stated bitterly. "I come to your room, after doing what you begged me to do, and what do I find? I find you in the arms of your ex-lover!

"Alistair! It's not what you think!" She cried out to him. "He's not… I'm not… We're not together like that." She tried to find the words to explain what had transpired between Zevran and herself earlier, but she didn't know how. She shut her mouth and looked pleadingly at Alistair.

Alistair exhaled loudly. "You are to never, and I mean never, have any other man in your bedchambers again. Not now. Not ever. Most especially after we are married. Is this clear? Do you understand me?" He enunciated each word slowly and in a commanding way. Alistair then paused in his speaking to wait for her response. _Maker's breath, _he thought to himself, _she's going to run me through with her sword for speaking to her like that!_ He knew she did not like to be ordered about by any man, especially him.

_For the love of the Maker! He still loves me! He still plans on marrying me, thank the Maker! _She looked at the man she so desperately loved and smiled. "As you wish, my love," she responded softly. "You are my king and will be my husband, so if this is your command to me, I will gladly obey." She almost laughed out loud when she saw the look of unbelief and surprise that crossed his handsome face. He had quickly tried to mask it, but she had seen it.

Alistair continued to look at her with a puzzled expression for a moment longer. He couldn't quite believe that she had given in to his demand so easily. Alistair sighed wearily and walked over to the table and sat down on one of the chairs. He leaned back and stretched out his long muscular legs, crossing them at the ankles. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and sighed wearily once more.

The Warden looked over at him, but remained where she was. She said a little prayer to herself and then began to speak softly. "I am so sorry, my love. I am sorry that my… request… caused you so much pain. I never meant to hurt you, Alistair." Her voice began to quiver with unshed tears. She looked at her lover, imploring him to understand. "I just couldn't bear the thought of losing you. I knew that you wouldn't hesitate to be the one to give the final blow to the Archdemon. I knew that you would do your duty as a Grey Warden and as the king, and I feared you would take the final blow yourself to protect me." She looked into his eyes and saw the truth- he had indeed decided to forfeit his life for hers and for his kingdom.

"I am sorry…but I do not regret my decision. I would do it all over again, if it means that you would live. I love you too much, my dearest Alistair. I will not lose you- neither by my death or yours. We will both live to see the end of this cursed Blight. I have faith that Flemeth's ritual will work. It must! I can not lose you!" She couldn't go on. Her voice broke and the tears began to fall in earnest. She closed her eyes against the pain and anguish and her chest began to heave as she sobbed.

A great crash sounded as Alistair arose from his chair hastily, causing it to fall backwards onto the stone floor. He swore to himself violently and strode quickly to his beloved, then gathered her into his strong arms. She pressed herself against him and continued to sob uncontrollably as he held her tightly to him.

Alistair softly spoke words of comfort and endearment to her as he kissed the tears from her lovely face. "Forgive me, my love. Everything will be fine, my dearest. Hush, my love. Please, don't cry." His voice broke and his tears mingled with hers.

The Warden looked up into her lover's face and smiled a watery smile as she wiped the tears from his eyes. "There is nothing to forgive, my love and my king." She looked deeply into his eyes and smiled again. "How I love you so."

Alistair returned her gaze and his eyes grew dark with love and passion. She caught her breath sharply. Her heart began to pound loudly and her body began to tingle as they continued to stare into each other's eyes. Alistair groaned as he lowered his head to kiss her. He meant to be gentle, but when his lips touched hers, he lost all control. He ravished her with his mouth and she met his fervor with equal passion. _This, dear Maker, this is where I belong _thought both the Wardens as their minds, bodies, and souls became as one.

* * *

><p>The dreams came again. Dark images of vile and hideous creatures filled her mind. An enormous dragon flew through the sky. Its terrible roar was answered by thousands of darkspawn as they marched through the land, leaving nothing but corruption and blight behind them. The dragon roared again and the great roar sounded like music… dark enchanting music that called to her mind. The Warden began to moan and tremble in her sleep as the Archdemon called to her. She cried out as she awoke abruptly. "Alistair!"<p>

He had been standing across the room by the large stone fireplace, watching her as she slept. "Hush, my love. It was just a dream. I had one as well." His voice was soft and soothing. She inhaled deeply as she tried to dispel the last remnants of her dream. She smiled at Alistair and sat up in the bed, pulling the sheet loosely up around her nude form.

"Such a pity to cover what has become one of my most favorite views to look upon". He smiled at her teasingly.

"Dare I ask what your other favorite view is?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Hmm. Well… all I can say is that it has something to do with cheese." He laughed and ducked his head as she threw one of the bed pillows at him.

She sighed in resignation. She never understood Alistair's fascination with _cheese_. She almost asked him if hers was _the_ favorite view, but she was afraid that he may very well say that it was the _cheese_- and then she would have to hit him.

The Warden sat up straighter in the bed and her covers fell away form her. She heard Alistair's quick intake of breath. She met his eyes and was thrilled at what she saw expressed in them. She sighed a bit sadly. _That_ would have to wait. She needed to talk to him. She raised the covers and wrapped them firmly around her. "Alistair… we need to talk."

"_Talking_ isn't quite what I had in mind for us, my love." He grinned at her wickedly.

She shook her head and laughed softly. "You are incorrigible, my lord". She smiled at him again, but it was a slightly sad smile.

He saw her change of expression and his face grew serious. He walked over to her and sat at the foot of the four-poster bed, with his back against the post, facing her. "I'm not going to like this conversation, am I," he stated matter-of-factly.

"Probably not." She replied. "But I need you to listen to me without interrupting." She saw that he nodded his head in response. _Maker, give me strength _she thought to herself. She looked into his eyes and began speaking calmly and quietly. "I need to make sure that there is nothing between us that would hinder our relationship. There can be no lies or secrets between us. I need to know that all your doubts have been put to rest." She paused and searched his eyes for agreement. He nodded his head once again, but did not speak.

"I love you Alistair, and I have great faith in you. You will make a wonderful king." Alistair looked more than doubtful regarding that last declaration, but he remained silent. "I want you to know- need you to know- that you have been the only man that I have ever truly been _in_ love with." She paused as Alistair raised an eyebrow at her in question. She sighed. This wasn't going to be easy. She took a deep breath and continued speaking.

"We both know that you were not my first… lover." His face hardened slightly at that, but Alistair remained quiet. "You know that I had been with Zevran before you, my dearest. He and I had relationship that meant a great deal to him and I … but I was never _in_ love with him." She looked into Alistair's eyes with a beseeching expression. She needed him to understand.

"I chose _you_, Alistair. I chose to live the rest of my life with _you_, not Zevran. I love you and I am _in_ love with you. There is no man, or woman, in this world or in the Beyond, that I love more than you. You alone are my heart and my joy. With every breath of air that I take… with every beat that my heart makes…with everything that is in me; I love you." She spoke each word carefully and slowly. She needed him to know and to understand. "You are the light that shines within me and keeps me from the darkness. You are the shield that defends me from those that seek to harm me. You are the shelter that I seek in the midst of a storm. You alone are all that I could ever want or need. You are my lover… my friend…my betrothed…my king. You are my life."

Alistair looked at her lovingly with unshed tears shimmering in his eyes. Any doubt that he still may have had, had just been completely eradicated by her declarations of love for him. He started to speak, but she stopped him.

"Just one more thing, my love," she said. "I wanted you to know that there was another reason for my request of you, this night." He sighed in exasperation. "Please, this is important to me." He leaned back and waited for her to continue. "You are the last of King Maric's bloodline. And because we are both Grey Wardens, we will never be able to conceive a child together." She stopped to get control of her emotions. She hadn't realized until now how much this fact hurt her. She would love to be able to give Alistair a child. She continued speaking softly. "Now your bloodline will continue, in the child that Morrigan and you have conceived together. You may never be able to see the child, but you will always have the knowledge that there is a child of yours, alive somewhere in this world."

She looked down at her folded hands when she had finished speaking. She had said everything that she felt needed to be said. The rest was up to Alistair. She waited for him to speak. It felt like an eternity passed by before he finally spoke.

"Maker's breath! What have I done to deserve such a woman as you?"

She looked at him, trying to decide if that meant he felt blessed, or cursed, in having her in his life. Maybe it was both.

He saw her expression and laughed loudly. "How, I do love you, woman! What would I do without you?"

She smiled and began to sniffle as she tried to hold back her tears of joy. She had never shed as many tears in her entire life, as she did this night. She really needed to get a hold of herself. _Holy Andraste's fire! What kind of warrior goes around crying like this?_ She smiled and laughed at herself.

Her laughter quickly stopped as she gazed into Alistair's face. He moved closer to her and tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. She shivered slightly as his hand lightly grazed her neck. She met his eyes and lost her breath- again. "Holy Maker!" she whispered softly.

Alistair felt his desire for her grow. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her to him. Their lips met and the fires within them grew. They were all but consumed. _This, dear Maker, this is where I belong _thought both the Wardens as their minds, bodies, and souls became as one, again.


End file.
